Last night, I dreamed that I found a giant, living Duplo Frog.

When we still lived in Denmark, my husband and I went to look at a flat in a Copenhagen suburb. It was a wonderful thing – part of an old town house with glorious shuttered windows and cornicing on the roof. We didn’t take it though because every square inch had been painted a dusky pink and the enitre place was covered in chintzy pictures of cats and cherubs which, as tennants, we’d have been stuck with. I hadn’t thought of the place in months until last night.

In my dream, we’d moved in and redecorated the long lounge to look like a room at my parents’ house (the one with the pool table, for anyone who’s been). It was early morning, my family were visiting, and S- and I were in our room, trying to sleep through the noise of my brother playing in the corridor. My brother, incidentally, is twenty years old and hasn’t played anything that isn’t on some kind of screen for a good many years.

Suddenly, I noticed something moving in the corner of the room. Throwing back the sheets, I went to move a pile of clothes and found a giant Duplo frog, grumbling in the corner. It sounded like the dog, Mutley, from Wacky Races.

The frog and I stared at one another for a time and then, as carfully as I could, I picked him up and carried him to my parents’ room. Mum and Dad looked at the heavy creature in my arms and I put him down, walking off to try and get back to sleep. Only then, Dad changed his mind and I had to go and get my frog back… but suddently, I was too afraid to touch him.

And that’s when I woke up.

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